Flying Without Wings
by YenGirl
Summary: Post Book 7. Voldemort is dead and Harry goes back to Hogwarts to finish his last year of school. He gets along well with everyone else except one and not even his Firebolt can help. Or can it?
1. Chapter 1: Flying Without Wings

**Author Notes: **Hello, everyone! I'm back at last although this isn't quite the update you've been waiting for - sorry, please don't shoot me! The start of June didn't give me as much free time as I'd hoped it would but I promise I'll get the next HMN chapter up next week.

Well, this is what happens when you start reading really good HP fanfics (that get into your head and refuse to be dislodged - must be magic :D) right after helping your almost nine year old discover the delights of Harry Potter, Hogwarts and magic spells... you get inspired to write your own HP fanfic! I read this really lovely one shot called **Dormiscere** by **Sara Holmes**. I fell in love with the dreamy sleepy sweetness of her story, her Harry and especially her Draco. I'm afraid they're still here in my head, smirking at a most put out Kaname and Zero - sorry guys!

This is my first ever HP fanfic and with half a million other HP fanfics out there, I'm nervous to say the least. I know it's shaky, not as detailed as my other stories and probably full of glaring pot holes but uhm, well, here it is anyway. I still have one other HP obsession but hopefully getting this one out will help my muse be more manageable. Enjoy if you can.

**Acknowledgement:** Thank you Sara, for your kind permission in letting me use the same setting as your **Dormiscere** for my story even though I know and you know and everyone knows it can't compare to yours :)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowlings, just in case there really are some people out there who still don't know. 'Flying Without Wings' is the title of a song from Westlife.

**Rating:** 'T'

**Brief Summary:** Post Book 7. Voldemort is dead and Harry goes back to Hogwarts to finish his last year of school. He gets along well with everyone else except one and not even his Firebolt can help. Or can it?

- Chapter Start -

It was the end of October. School term had started almost two months ago. Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts to finish off their final year of schooling and sit for their NEWTs, along with many of their classmates and those from the other Houses. There were a lot of absences though. Since the teachers didn't want to crowd them with the current seventh years, Harry and the others had ended up sharing everything together - all their classes, a common room dubbed 'The Eighth Years' Common Room' that was housed in one of the many unused towers of the castle and dorms that had the same name except for 'Common' replaced with 'Dormitory' and 'Room' changed to the plural form.

Those weren't the only changes of course. With Voldemort dead and his Death Eaters scattered or rounded up and thrown into Azkaban, new and tentative friendships had been and were slowly being formed amongst the eighth years. Hard to avoid really when you were no longer a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff or Slytherin or Ravenclaw but a bunch of people out to complete your final year and get your NEWTs so that you could find a job. Besides, you saw the same faces day in and day out and the teachers just randomly assigned working pairs so that one day you could be making a potion with an ex-Ravenclaw and then trimming a poisonous plant with an ex-Slytherin.

Harry didn't mind all that. He just wished that sometimes, his partner could be Draco Malfoy but somehow, that never happened. He must have paired up with every other person in his class by now except for that blond skinny Slytherin. Ex-Slytherin. Hermione had said it was probably because the teachers didn't want to take the chance of them destroying one of the classrooms or perhaps the greenhouses but that was rubbish. Fighting was in the past where it belonged and everyone in eighth year were surprisingly friendly or polite or wary or all three to one another or at least kept nasty comments to the very minimum. Ron had said that was only because the really nasty ones hadn't come back and the rest were under strict warning by McGonagall that if anyone did anything to get themselves into trouble, they would be thrown out of school and don't even think for a minute that it would be the same as 'doing a Weasley' and getting rich and famous marketing joke products. That market had already been cornered.

Harry was pleased about the warning and agreed wholeheartedly with it. He was sick and tired of fighting. Now that his mortal enemy was dead, it was really nice to remember what a normal school day was supposed to be like. Hell, it was nice to remember that he was still a schoolboy after all. It was reassuring to know that the next day would be just as normal as today and the one after that and so on. It felt great to have a scar that didn't twinge and a head that didn't feel like it was going to burst with evil laughter and horrifying visions. It was wonderful to know you didn't have anything to worry about other than oversleeping and being late for classes or getting your assignments completed on time or the upcoming exams.

Yes, Harry was enjoying his final year at Hogwarts immensely even if he couldn't join any of the House Quidditch teams seeing as the eighth years didn't have a 'team' of their own. Well, that also meant they didn't have House points to win or lose either which was a bonus point to him and Ron. They had shared a grin when Hermione's hand didn't shoot up in the air in class as often as it did in the old days. Ron had snickered over this when they were back in their common room, wondering aloud if the honour of hearing a 'Correct answer, Miss Granger' was somehow less appealing when it didn't have a 'Ten points to Gryffindor!' attached to it. Hermione had said loftily that it was about time she allowed the others the opportunity to shine and that only made Ron snicker harder. Harry didn't say anything then, his attention caught by the tall blond curled up in one of the comfortable cushioned chairs near the fireplace, head bent over a book.

_Why do I never get paired up with Malfoy?_

"Tomorrow's Saturday, mate," Ron threw a cushion at Harry to get his attention. "Hey, can we go flying?"

Harry blinked and turned back to Ron, noting that some of the others seated beside them had looked up with interest. Harry nodded with a smile.

"Sure," he replied, nodding at the others to silently include them in his reply. "We'll all take turns around the pitch and over the lake."

Amidst a chorus of 'Thanks, Harry!' and 'I can't wait!' Harry just shrugged and looked down. He wasn't the only one to have brought a good broom to school - Theo Nott had a Nimbus 2001 - but his was faster. Harry still loved his Firebolt but after the great showdown with Voldemort last year and the stress of hiding from everyone while looking for the Horcruxes and basically trying to stay alive, the things that had felt so precious to him now felt like just... possessions. A change in perspective, Hermione would say and perhaps she was right. Anyhow, the eighth years - or most of them anyway, Hermione still didn't like flying - had gone out two weeks ago for a bout of flying and it had gone well. Ron had berated Zabini for letting the Firebolt's twigs drag on the ground for longer than two seconds and Harry had suddenly felt like snatching his broom back when he saw Lavender Brown's far too long fingernails absently scratching the gold lettering on the handle - she said she was just tracing the name - and of course he had ended up sitting cross legged on his bed that night, polishing away the numerous fingerprints from his Firebolt but everyone had had a good time and no one had thrown curses or hexes at one another.

Except that that one person from their group hadn't joined in. Harry's gaze flicked over to Malfoy again, the dancing flames of the fire turning that light blond hair impossibly silver.

_Why do I care anyway?_

- o -

Saturday was bright and sunny, the air cool and crisp. They all trotted out right after breakfast since it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend and the exams were still a blip on the horizon and Slughorn had apparently forgotten to give them their weekly Potions assignment.

"Blimey, I could spend the whole day out here," Ron said happily as they walked down the stairs into the sunshine. He had Harry's Firebolt slung over his shoulder. Hermione raised an eyebrow, laden with a bag full of books including A History of Hogwarts that Ron had rolled his eyes at, muttering to Harry about what was the point of reading a book that one had already memorised?

"Are you sure? Not even to take a break for lunch?" Hermione teased.

"Of course we'll break for lunch!" Ron sounded properly indignant. Hermione laughed and Ron grinned, moving closer to nudge her free shoulder with his arm. She smiled back at him. Walking behind them, Harry smiled a little as well. He and Ginny had started dating again but it wasn't as intense as before. They probably just needed some time.

The eighth years walked out to the Quidditch Pitch in small groups of twos and threes and Harry covertly glanced around. Yup, no sign of Malfoy. He had been there earlier when they had breakfasted at the smaller rectangular table placed next to the staff table in the Great Hall, the other four House tables too full to accommodate the eighth years. As usual, Malfoy had kept his head down, eating little and talking even less. It wasn't that he was rude or anything, he answered when spoken to but he seldom joined in any of the conversations that went on, not even those from his ex-Slytherin friends. Finnigan said the new Malfoy was now so boring he could almost - but not quite - miss the old one. Harry hadn't laughed then and he was the only one who saw the grey eyes dart up to meet his gaze and then back down again.

It was as if Malfoy feared to make any move that would call attention to himself. It was understandable. All the Malfoys were meant to end up in Azkaban but in the end only Lucius did. Narcissa was put under house arrest and could not leave the Malfoy Manor for the next five years. All this had come about only because at the moment when it mattered, Lucius and Narcissa weren't helping Voldemort to fight the others but had just gone searching for their son and having found Draco, the three of them had huddled in a corner, determined to stay out of the fight until it all ended and hadn't quite cared whose side won. Draco was also under house arrest but he was allowed to finish his final year of school at Hogwarts so that he could graduate but only after solemnly promising to stay out of trouble.

Unsurprisingly, it was Harry who had insisted on Draco being allowed to sit for his NEWTs. Draco had helped save his life at Malfoy Manor however cowardly he had been. Harry had saved the Slytherin in turn in the Room of Requirements but right after that, Narcissa had saved Harry's life in the woods even though her main reason was to find her son. Despite knowing that, Harry still wanted to repay the favour and he did. Malfoy couldn't have been thrilled to have Harry witness his embarrassment as he made his promises to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister but Harry had respected the way the blond had held his chin high. When Harry stepped forward to give him back the hawthorn wand, Draco had seemed genuinely pleased to have it back. He had thanked Harry quietly. The words were so soft and the eye contact so brief that Harry thought he might have imagined it but he was quite sure he had heard the whispered 'Thank you'.

Only ever since the first of September, Malfoy never spoke to him if he could help it. He stared at Harry sometimes and looked as if he did have things to say to him... but he never did.

- o -

The morning passed by quickly enough as the Firebolt and the Nimbus 2001 passed from hand to hand, each person gleefully kicking off from the ground, pleased to experience the speed and precision of the fast brooms. They could borrow the school ones of course but everyone knew the old brooms sucked and often veered to the right or left or refused to be maneuvered at all. Harry had already had his go and was now sitting with the others under the shade of a large tree when he felt someone watching him. He turned around swiftly and saw a blond head ducking out of sight behind the courtyard wall. It could only be Malfoy.

Well, if he wanted to fly, then why the hell didn't he come out? And of course he wanted to otherwise he wouldn't be spying on them. Malfoy liked flying, Harry knew he did. He was also good at it. So why didn't he...?

"Anything wrong, Harry? You hungry already?"

Harry shot Hermione a startled glance. Her head was still in a book but she had obviously seen him crane his neck.

"No, course not," he muttered. Well, if Malfoy wanted to join them, he could very well come out on his own. Harry wasn't going to give him an engraved invitation. Malfoy might take it the wrong way and get offended again.

- o -

Lunchtime came before they knew it and laughing and chattering, the group made its way back to the Great Hall. This time, Malfoy was nowhere to be found. Nott and Zabini even went looking for him in the library after lunch but couldn't find him. They went out again after lunch for more flying and chatting and enjoying the sunshine with bottles of pumpkin juice they had sneaked out during lunch. It was only while they were packing it in for the day, at around five in the evening when Harry caught sight of that blond head again. Malfoy was standing near the Quidditch pitch even though the Hufflepuffs had already finished their practice and gone back inside.

Harry made up his mind there and then. He walked closer to Ron who once again had insisted on carrying the Firebolt back to the castle.

"Listen Ron, I'm just going to have one last go on it. See you all later, all right?" he said quietly.

"Sure. Sorry, did I have too many turns?" Ron apologised at once and Harry shook his head with a quick smile. "No, you didn't. See you later."

He waited until the rest of them had climbed the stairs, a couple of them glancing back looking as if they would have joined him if Ron hadn't hurried them inside. Harry hoped uncomfortably that they wouldn't think he was regretting his offer to share his broom. It wasn't that. It was just...

He sighed and hurried over to the Quidditch pitch.

- o -

"Malfoy!"

The blond was already starting to walk back towards the castle when Harry called him. He glanced back and predictably started walking even faster. Harry hurried to catch up with him, still clutching his broom

"Hey, Malfoy, wait up!"

The blond only walked faster and Harry grumbled under his breath. He broke into a run and caught up just as Malfoy reached the stairs, halting abruptly as Harry stepped right in front of him. Harry's look was determined. Malfoy's was a glare. There was silence for all of ten seconds before Malfoy broke it.

"Excuse me," he said tightly and stepped around Harry whose hand shot out to grab his arm.

"Wait."

This time, the silence lasted longer. About half a minute.

"What do you want?" Malfoy asked looking as if he was trying to sound polite but with gritted teeth. Well, since he was asking, Harry decided to be blunt.

"Why didn't you join us?" he asked. Malfoy's eyes flicked away and then down to the ground.

"I join you all for classes and meals," he answered. Harry frowned.

"I meant two weeks ago. And today," he clarified. "For flying," he added just in case Malfoy still pretended ignorance. The thin shoulders stiffened under the white school shirt and the pale jaw clenched.

"I'm not interested," Malfoy said shortly. He shook off Harry's arm and Harry was surprised he was still holding onto the other boy.

"Excuse me," Malfoy muttered again and tried to step around Harry who moved faster, blocking him.

"Rubbish! You love flying," he retorted. "And you're good at it. Go on, you can borrow mine."

He held out the Firebolt. Despite himself, Malfoy glanced at it for just a second too long and then he glared at Harry.

"I told you, I'm not interested! Leave me alone..."

He gave the Firebolt another look, his jaw tightened and he brushed past Harry and started up the stairs. It was too late. Harry had seen the flash of interest and something else in the grey eyes. Malfoy did want to fly. Harry dug his teeth into his bottom lip and frowned. The blond hadn't brought his own broom and was probably too embarrassed to ask to borrow Harry's. Malfoy pride and all that.

Still, Harry felt giddy relief. He really wanted to get along with all of them and for some reason, it galled him that Malfoy didn't. Still, if he could get the blond to borrow his broom and fly a couple of rounds, it might make him more approachable. With his usual Gryffindor impulse, Harry jogged up the steps and grabbed hold of Malfoy's hand.

"Come on, there's still time!"

"What the - let go of me!"

Malfoy tried to twist his arm out of Harry's grip but the latter was pulling him back down the stairs and since Malfoy was facing the other way, he had to concentrate on not falling over backwards.

"Let go! Are you crazy?"

Harry didn't speak. They had reached the foot of the stairs and he started jogging, pulling Malfoy along. His green eyes were glinting with determination and all he could think of was that someone was missing out on the joy of flying all because he was too bloody proud to borrow his Firebolt. Well, Nott had one too but... Harry shrugged off the thought, still pulling a struggling Malfoy along.

"Let go before I hex you!"

It was an empty threat since Malfoy's wand hadn't appeared. Harry stopped abruptly and let his Firebolt broom hover in the air before throwing a leg over the handle. With a speed and strength that caught Malfoy by surprise, Harry released his hand and pushed him in the chest, causing Malfoy to stumble backwards and sit on the handle of the Firebolt. That was good enough for Harry. In two seconds, he had placed his arms on either side of Malfoy, gripped the handle firmly and kicked off from the ground. Hard.

"Potter, you - aaaahhhhh!"

By the time Malfoy ran out of breath, they were fifty feet above the ground and zooming towards the Quidditch Pitch. That didn't stop Malfoy from struggling and pushing at Harry. Harry pressed his lips together and gripped his boom hard with both hands and knees.

"Take me down, Potter! Now!"

Grey eyes narrowed in a glare three inches from his face but Harry just smirked at him. He hadn't expected a grateful 'Thank you' right away. That would probably come later.

"So you can get off or so that you can sit properly like a bloke?"

Draco's mouth fell open and then closed with an almost audible snap. He looked almost too indignant for words, his hands clamped on the broom handle on either side of his legs.

"You know what, I'd better get you down," Harry agreed, grinning. "Wouldn't want anyone to see Malfoy riding a broom sideways like some sissy-"

"How dare - I am _not_ a sissy!" Draco exploded. "Get me the hell down now!"

"Uh uh, only if you promise to sit properly-"

"You shut your bloody -"

Increasingly rude words spilled out of their mouths as Malfoy released one hand and shoved Harry in the chest. They started tussling, elbowing and shoving. Harry had stopped steering the Firebolt but his knees were still gripping it tightly and they went on flying towards goodness knows where. His hands were occupied in blocking Malfoy's punches but the blond was fast. Harry's breath left his lungs in a whoosh at one point as a sharp elbow found his ribs. He elbowed Malfoy right back and heard the grunt of pain with satisfaction. At least he was sitting astride his broom properly and not even in danger of tipping off. Malfoy should really watch it - one good shove against his back and he would be the one to fall. With that sobering thought in mind, Harry inhaled sharply. He jerked his head sideways to avoid a punch and caught Malfoy's wrist.

"Look - enough, all right? You're going to fall off if you don't-"

"I said, get me down! Now!"

"All right, but what's the -"

Malfoy just snarled at him, his pale face white with anger. He jerked his wrist out of Harry's grip and twisted to face front. Grabbing the Firebolt handle with both hands, he leaned forward suddenly, pointing it down. Straight down. Almost vertically so.

"Oi!" was all a startled Harry could manage as they plummeted back to earth. "You little...!"

The rest of his words were lost in the dizzying rush of wind as the Firebolt and its two struggling occupants dropped sharply out of the sky. It was a good thing they had flown quite high because the drop was almost vertical at first. Then it straightened out somewhat but then the Firebolt began jerking from right to left as both boys fought for control of the broom. Harry didn't even realise he was practically hugging Malfoy in his arms and Malfoy didn't even care that his cheek was pressed next to Harry's as they tussled. Still, they continued to drop down, down, down, the Firebolt occasionally dipping up drunkenly before bearing down again.

Harry's heart was lodged in his throat and choking him. He stole a panicked look at the ground that was rushing up to meet them way too fast. They were going to crash on a rocky and very uncomfortable looking ground at the side of a hill. Voldemort hadn't managed to kill him in the last seven years despite trying his hardest but it looked like Malfoy was going to succeed. Harry couldn't help wondering a little wildly if Voldemort had given Malfoy last minute instructions from the grave.

"Damnit, do you have a death wish or something?" Harry yelled right in Malfoy's ear. Damn the Slytherin - what the blazes had gotten into him, anyway? With a desperate strength bordering on panic - wait, he was already way past panic, wasn't he? - Harry finally prised Malfoy's white knuckled grip from the handle and pulled up as hard as he could, fearing the wood would crack halfway and it would be just like those Muggle movies where the bemused looking man ended up holding the detached steering wheel of a car just before he crashed into a wall, except in this case, it was going to be half a broomstick handle and they would be hitting the ground. Hard.

The did end up on the ground after a somewhat rough landing that dug a track in the ground twelve feet long, not in little pieces scattered along the earth and sparse grass but alive and relatively in one piece. Well, three pieces actually if you wanted to be precise - one piece ex-Gryffindor, one piece ex-Slytherin and one piece Firebolt. Harry ended up sprawled on one side of the broom and Malfoy on the other.

"You freaking idiot!" Harry exploded, jumping to his feet as soon as his vision had cleared and he realised he was still alive even though his heart was still lodged in his throat. He brought his stinging left arm up, fuming as he examined his shredded left sleeve, torn cotton swiftly turning bright red with the blood it was soaking up. There was a three inch gash along his lower arm and his left hip felt tender, the denim of his jeans over it looking a little threadbare. His right shoulder felt bruised too as if he had bumped it against something hard.

"You're dead if I find so much as one scratch on my Firebolt!" he threatened as he dropped onto his knees beside his broom. He pushed Malfoy's leg away impatiently and turned his Firebolt over swiftly, looking for scratches or broken off twigs. There weren't any. The handle still gleamed, each twig still dead straight. The only imperfections he could see were the numerous fingerprints upon the polished wood.

Rather belatedly, Harry remembered that Firebolts were impervious to scratches and nicks. Feeling like he had overreacted yet knowing he had good reason to, Harry fell silent and shot a glare at Malfoy, daring him to say something scathing in reply. The blond was still sitting on the ground, one long leg straight, the other bent at the knee where Harry had pushed it away earlier. Malfoy's head was down, his white blond hair ruffled, pale long fingers gently probing his jaw. He glanced up at Harry and quickly looked away again. Harry saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"Shit," Harry mumbled when he saw the trickle of blood slowly making its way down the side of Draco's lower lip. It looked like he had cut his lip on his own teeth when he had bumped into something. Like a shoulder perhaps...

Harry swallowed the sour guilt rising swiftly in his throat and hardened his heart. It was Malfoy's own fault if he was injured, pointing the broom downward like that. They were both lucky to be alive. But it was too late, the unreasonable rage had faded, probably in the face of that pale dejected looking face with those grey eyes somewhat glazed over. Harry struggled with himself and blocked out every random word his mind came up with - grey, smoky, slate, misty. Pathetic. Yes. Malfoy looked pathetic. Harry floundered to find another reason for his anger suddenly deserting him and grasped onto the fact that it must be because it was he who had pulled Malfoy onto his broom in the first place. Yeah, that was it. Guilt. And stop thinking of naming that particular shade of grey.

Malfoy was still silent and Harry shot him another look. He was still probing along his jaw and wincing. Harry exhaled, his gaze flicking over their surroundings before he chanced another look at the blond.

"That was a pretty stupid stunt to pull," he said quietly, eyeing Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. The blond head just dipped a little lower, the pale fingers dropping onto the knee. They were thin and they had started trembling. Harry swallowed at the sight. He wanted to - no. He didn't.

"I know," Draco finally said in a low voice. He glanced briefly up at Harry and just as quickly looked away again. There was that same furtive, fearful look in those eyes. Harry didn't know what to say - only that the Malfoy of old would have hexed him for even saying that.

"I didn't think," Draco continued, his voice dropping to a shaky whisper. "I just... freaked out."

Harry twisted around to face him, mouth almost hanging open. He was still not quite used to this quiet Draco Malfoy even if that was how he had behaved for the past almost two months. And it touched the Gryffindor in Harry, it insisted that he owned up even if it killed him.

"I meant me," Harry clarified evenly. "For pulling you on in the first place."

Malfoy's head snapped up and those eyes were wide with surprise. Then he looked away and gave a non-commital shrug... as if Harry was just being true to himself. Expected really, being who he was.

"That's why you didn't join us. For flying," Harry stated quietly, his voice resigned as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place, leaving him unsurprised. He should have known. He had forgotten about that incident. Well, not forgotten exactly but who would ever want to relive any of their worst nightmares?

"Ever since that FiendFyre in-"

"In the Room of Requirements. Yes."

The blond head dipped even lower. In acknowledgement and in shame. In remembrance of a life debt owed. In remembrance of why the Sorting Hat decreed he was a Slytherin and not a Gryffindor. Harry stared at him, tongue tied. There was hardly any time to think back then as to whether he should or should not have turned back to save Malfoy and Goyle, whether he should or should not have turned back to grab that Horcrux - he hadn't known the cursed fire would eventually destroy it in the end. There was only a knowledge of what had to be done, the certainty that there was no second chance and no going back and that he and Ron and Hermione had already sacrificed so much it just didn't make sense to turn back without one last attempt to find that diadem. All Harry had to guide him were his instincts and his single minded determination to finish the job he had set out to do no matter what the sacrifice. And as for saving Malfoy and Goyle - well, that was a no brainer. He had to if he could. It was just who he was. Ron and Hermione too. Just who they were even if Harry was the one who had turned back first.

When his arm stung again, he finally remembered his injury. He brought his left arm up, pointed his wand at the cut and murmured the useful healing charm Hermione had taught him. The gash closed up with an itchy, almost ticklish sensation. He cleaned the blood and gravel off his skin and sleeve with a cleaning charm before mending the tear in his sleeve with another useful repair charm, thought this time by Ron who swore it had saved him and his brothers numerous times from Mrs. Weasley's scoldings throughout their growing years.

Harry then turned back to Draco who was still sitting there, eerily silent, most likely regretting his admission.

"Here, look up."

Draco didn't move. Impulsively, Harry reached out and grasped that pointed chin with his left hand, forcing that pale face to turn to his. Draco winced again and tried to resist but gave in as Harry's hold tightened. They locked gazes and Harry blinked. Had those eyes ever looked _that_ grey, that huge, that... wounded? Draco saw his expression and closed his eyes tightly, trying to turn away again.

"Stop it. I'm fine," he whispered tightly. But of course he was not because he was shaking and his lip was still bleeding and one pointed cheekbone in that too thin face was starting to discolour with a bruise.

"Shut up. I did this," Harry mumbled, mortified to have been caught staring. He pointed his wand at Malfoy's cheekbone and muttered the same healing charm before attending to the split lip. He was guilty of yet another bout of staring when the tip of a pink tongue appeared to lick at the bottom lip, probably soothing away the same tingling, itchy feeling Harry had felt in his arm earlier. He blinked and cleaned the blood off the pale skin before lowering his wand. Malfoy's shirt didn't look torn and Harry decided he had stared too much already. He promptly forgot and went on staring as the pale hand came back up and those long thin fingers probed at the newly healed skin.

"Good as new now," Harry offered quietly. Malfoy nodded, not quite looking at him as he dropped his hand and scrambled to his feet with less elegance than usual.

"Thanks."

Still avoiding Harry's searching gaze, Malfoy spun around slowly to see where they were, absently dusting himself down at the same time. His mouth fell open when he finally recognised the landscape. Shit. They were on the far side of Hogsmeade village. It was a good twenty minute walk back to the school from here and his right ankle ached, after falling on it rather awkwardly. Still, it was better than flying, right?

"Well, see you around, Potter."

Malfoy squared his shoulders and took one step. He winced but he took another. And another. There was a quick step behind him and a strong hand clamped onto his shoulder, stopping him.

"Don't be silly. We'll fly back."

Malfoy swung around faster than he had meant to.

"No!"

Those eyes were wide again but Harry's jaw was set, his eyes gleaming.

"Yes, we will."

He was through making enemies. The one real enemy he had was dead and he didn't need another, not even this boy whom he had been sniping with for the past seven years. He had managed to make friends with everyone else, regardless of which House they were from. Some distant, some close but all were now friends or at least acquaintances. All except this blond boy who for some strange reason, refused to be his friend.

The grey eyes looked away and the Adam's apple bobbed again in the pale throat.

"I - I can't."

Harry hesitated and then he reached out and gave that shoulder a squeeze, feeling the fragile bones underneath.

"You're not going to fall. I promise."

Malfoy hesitated, his gaze darting from Harry's face to the broom lying on the ground behind them.

"No FiendFyre this time, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "No life and death situation. No one else around."

Malfoy swallowed again and Harry wished he wouldn't keep _doing_ that, it wasn't helping with his staring problem. He nodded encouragingly instead.

"Just you and me."

Slowly, the head lifted and the haunted eyes filled with wonder and a hint of something that might have been courage. Harry waited and Malfoy inhaled deeply and nodded. He took a step forward.

"All right."

Harry smiled before he could stop himself.

"Great!"

He turned and retraced his steps, picking up his broom.

"I'll get on first, shall I?" he asked. It was a rhetorical question since he was already mounting the Firebolt. Malfoy approached slowly, staring at the handle as if were covered with bobotuber pus. Harry held out his hand.

"Come on."

Malfoy took another step forward. He inhaled deeply and gingerly lifted a leg across behind Harry.

"I must be mad," he whispered. Harry swallowed the retort that wanted to slip out. Instead, he waited patiently as Malfoy settled himself behind him, hands resting lightly on his sides. Harry took a deep breath and turned his head.

"You ready?" he asked quietly. Malfoy's eyes were still wide, his face paler than ever. Despite the cool wind, there were tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip and forehead.

"We won't fall," Harry promised quietly, telling himself he was _not_ interested in wiping off the perspiration from that pale face. "Hold onto me."

With that, he kicked off from the ground again and pretended he didn't hear the alarmed cry behind him or feel the hands that clamped tightly at his waist or the body pressed against his back. He didn't fly too high or too fast although a little imp of mischief was tempting him... just to get that scream in his ear again.

They circled over Hogsmeade, low enough to see the shops in the village. That was one good thing about being the eighth years, Harry thought with satisfaction. The students belonging to the Houses weren't allowed to use their brooms outside of the Quidditch pitch but the eighth years could. Or, Harry corrected himself, they probably couldn't but just hadn't been caught or told off yet. He could feel the trembles in the body pressed to his back and in the arms curled around his waist. Now that nobody else was around to see, Harry let his grin stay in place.

After a minute, he turned his head to the side.

"You OK?"

Malfoy's face was still pressed into Harry's neck because he could feel the fast, shallow puffs of breath against his skin but he nodded and Harry felt that too.

"You might want to take a look," he chided after a few minutes. "The sun's just starting to set and everything looks beautiful."

Harry felt the head against his neck shift and he turned his head sideways, seeing the grey eyes peep up and the strands of fine blond hair and the straight slim nose.

"I'd forgotten," Malfoy whispered and he gave Harry a shy sideways glance. "It is beautiful."

Harry smiled back and he bent forward a little. The Firebolt picked up speed the wind blew in their faces and rustled their clothes. The arms had tightened around his waist again but when he chanced another sideways look, Malfoy was smiling. Harry's smile widened into a grin and he gave himself up to the pure simple joy of flying. He had always enjoyed solo trips with his Firebolt but right now, having someone along to share the joy was fun too.

Harry just didn't want to think too much on why that person couldn't be Ron or Ginny or someone else other than the boy behind him.

- o -

They flew for almost half an hour around Hogsmeade village and its surrounding area. Halfway through, Harry had at last felt the moment when most of the fear left Malfoy, enabling him to sit up straighter and leave his hands lightly holding Harry's waist instead of the death grip he had on earlier. They were quiet for most of the flight but it had been a comfortable silence and Harry's heart was brimming with satisfaction as he brought the broom lower and they finally came down to a smooth landing at roughly the same place as before. Both boys dismounted and stretched their arms and legs and in Harry's case, groaning a little as his sore muscles protested.

They should be heading back but Harry wanted to help Malfoy just a bit more. He already had, he knew that but somehow... it just wasn't enough. He made the Firebolt hover again and stepped closer to Malfoy.

"C'mon, your turn now," he said quietly. Malfoy's gaze snapped up to his face but Harry ignored it. Taking hold of one of those cold hands, he placed it firmly on the polished handle, curling the thin fingers around the wood. When he looked up, Malfoy's eyes were still on him, wide and startled. Harry nodded encouragingly, his heart skipping a beat at how those grey eyes were so close to his. So close...

"Go on, take us home," he added evenly.

"You sure?" Draco was completely wide eyed, his voice nothing more than a shaky whisper that ghosted over Harry's cheek.

"Very." Harry kept his voice as steady as his gaze which was saying a lot since he was suddenly shaking inside. Not at the fact that his was entrusting Malfoy with his Firebolt but at the absolute certainty that he would never again see this boy as his enemy, would never want to in fact. Malfoy looked down and Harry realised their hands were still touching. He dropped his hand and shoved it inside his jeans pocket.

"All right," Malfoy whispered. He mounted the broom and Harry got on behind him, hands resting lightly on the blond boy's hips. He could hear Malfoy taking a couple of deep breaths and then he was kicking off from the ground and they were airborne once again.

Malfoy flew slowly at first and Harry kept silent, content to look around him. The sun was starting to set now and the lake would look glorious as the waters reflected the rays. Harry leaned forward, putting his lips close to Malfoy's ear, feeling the silky blond strands against his cheek.

"Fly us over the lake," Harry suggested and Malfoy nodded. He executed a smooth turn and they circled the village one last time, heading towards the distant outline of the Hogwarts with the evening sun warming their backs. Without realising it, Harry had rested some of his weight on Malfoy, even going so far as to rest his chin on the blond's shoulder.

Before he knew it, they were over the lake and Hogwarts was in clear view, sunlight flashing off its many windows like diamonds. Harry felt a strange pang inside him. He was tired, he was hungry... but at this moment, he felt as if he never wanted to get down. Malfoy was pointing the broom handle up and Harry kept quiet, letting him take them higher. They went up from thirty feet to forty and then fifty. Harry looked around him. The sun's rays were bathing the lands and trees in shades of crimson and gold and everything looked beautiful.

Then without warning, Malfoy pointed the Firebolt handle sharply downwards and Harry blinked.

"Wha - Malfoy!"

Malfoy felt Harry's arms tighten around his middle in alarm but he didn't care. What he was doing now wasn't due to panic but a God-knows-where-it-had-come-from burst of determination to conquer the rest of his fear even if he was still terrified. It had left him a while back when Potter was flying in that supremely confident way of his but he might never offer again and Malfoy just... didn't want to be so scared anymore. He hoped that Potter knew why he was doing this and perhaps he did because he was now silent even though those strong arms were wrapped tightly around his waist.

They were right over the middle of the lake and they were heading straight for the dark icy waters, cheeks stinging with the rush of cold air, hair blown backwards, breaths half frozen in their throats. They were so damned close Harry could see their reflections on the dark surface looming larger and larger, the wind causing it to ripple and distort. He forced himself to keep his eyes open as he hugged the trembling body in his arms and braced himself for an impact that never came.

Malfoy pulled smoothly out of the dive before their shoes could touch the water and then they were suddenly shooting up into the sky with a speed that made their heads spin. Harry could have sworn he had left his growling stomach floating about a foot above the lake. His heart was pounding away in his throat and Malfoy was whooping away like a mad man. By the time he leveled the broom, he was outright laughing with glee and before Harry knew it, he was laughing as well, the wind almost snatching their laughter out of their mouths.

The slanting rays of the setting sun were bright in their eyes, they were both alive and Voldemort was gone. Harry was on his Firebolt and in the air where he was happiest. He was suddenly content to keep his arms around that slender waist, his heart leaping wildly as Malfoy leaned back trustingly against him.

"We're flying," Malfoy whispered but pressed so close to him, Harry heard. He nodded.

"Yup. Without wings," he murmured back. Malfoy turned to him and Harry saw that bright smile again.

"God, it's good to be alive," Malfoy said fervently and Harry grinned.

"Yup," he said. It was probably a first but they had finally agreed on something…

- o -

Malfoy executed a perfect landing just beside the lake and they got off the broom reluctantly and in Harry's case, with legs trembling in exhaustion and a slightly sore behind. Malfoy handed him the Firebolt and he took it with a nod of thanks. The sun was going down fast now. It would be fully dark in fifteen minutes, maybe less. Harry looked out at the lake, feeling that same strange reluctance go back inside the castle even though they should. He had enjoyed his time with the others earlier in the day but the past hour or so with Malfoy had been...

_No. Don't say it. Don't. Say. It._

... special. Harry shook his head, pressing his lips together.

"Hey, Potter."

Harry turned at the casually spoken words, his eyes landing on Malfoy. Blond head tilted a little to the side, windblown bangs half hiding his eyes, hands shoved into trouser pockets in a way that was meant to look casual but somehow just gave away the fact that he was anything but.

"Thank you," Malfoy said softly. He looked a little shy again but he was also looking straight at Harry who just stared back at him and looked his fill. For some reason, he couldn't imagine ever getting tired of looking into those eyes. They were not a piercing blue like Dumbledore's had been. They were not a softer blue like Ron's or an intense brown like Hermione's or a blazing lighter brown like Ginny's... but they were an endless grey, of something neither hard nor soft but something so real that it just reached out and caught you and held you and saw you from the inside out.

Harry inhaled deeply and let it out. Now was the moment to say what he had been wanting for a long time now... seven years long in fact.

"My friends call me Harry," he said, keeping his voice matter of fact. He watched Draco's expression closely, his breath catching as the grey eyes first widened and lit up from within and the pale lips tilted up in a tentative smile.

"My friends call me Draco," Malfoy returned softly and Harry nodded. Then the smile faded.

"Friends then?" Malfoy whispered. Harry blinked and looked down to see the pale hand held out to him. In a second, he was pulled back seven years into the past. He was standing next to Ron at the landing of the marble staircase leading up to the Great Hall, both of them nervous and excited at the prospect of being Sorted. Malfoy - no, _Draco_ - was there too. Eleven years old just like him. Still staring at the hand proffered to him, Harry recalled that it was much smaller then. Not as thin.

He looked up. The face before him was a lot younger then with a slight roundness that spoke of a luxurious upbringing and more meals than one cared to count. The boyish features had been twisted with an arrogant, self important sneer that Harry hadn't liked on sight. Coupled with the insult Malfoy had thrown at Ron, Harry had never regretted not shaking that hand then.

But like they say, that was then... and this is now.

That boy was much taller now, perhaps even an inch taller than Harry himself. The blond hair was dead straight and falling straight down without the requisite gel to hold it in place, the fine strands more silver than gold. The face was more handsome than before but much thinner as well, the high cheekbones and pointed chin more pronounced. The complexion was paler too and it wasn't hard to recall the almost sickly pallor it had in their sixth year. There were lines of pain and suffering etched around those haunted eyes and the trembling lips that had not been there seven years ago.

Harry had a fair idea of some of the pain and nightmares that had caused those lines but right now, he didn't want to focus on that. The only things that mattered were that those lips were no longer curled in a condescending sneer but tilted in a hopeful nervous smile and those eyes were not narrowed at him but filled with a hope that was almost desperation and something that was just so, so new it made Harry's heart ache to see it.

He swallowed and looked down at the hand again, still held out to him. The long thin fingers were trembling. Right now, Harry wanted nothing more than to grasp that hand in his and... and hold it tight. Keep it safe. Warm even, for he knew those fingers were more often than not cold. He was suddenly seized with a longing to hold that hand in his for... well, for forever really.

Malfoy held his breath for what seemed like an eternity. He was fairly sure he was turning blue in the face. It was taking all the courage he possessed to keep his hand outstretched, courage he knew he didn't have an abundance of. Potter had hesitated and that could only mean the Gryffindor didn't want to shake his hand but was too damned noble to refuse. Malfoy was on the verge of snatching his hand back when it was engulfed in warmth and given a firm squeeze.

"Friends!" Harry declared, his smile turning into a wide grin. Malfoy expelled whatever air he had left in his lungs and started breathing again. Inhale. Exhale. Again. Inhale. Something was wrong though. There was something lodged in his throat and - and it was making his eyes burn and his chest hurt - and -

Malfoy groaned inwardly. Now was _so_ not the time to start bawling, damnit! He started to tug his right hand free but Harry's hand had closed tightly around it. Malfoy tried to swing around instead and again, he was stopped, this time by Harry's left hand grasping him by his upper right arm, holding him still.

"No."

His right hand was yanked hard. Caught by surprise, still fighting to breathe past that stupid lump in his throat, Draco stumbled forward, colliding against a hard chest. Something pressed against the back of his head, pressing his face down into a warm neck.

"No..."

The same word was whispered in Draco's ear. It was too much. Something hot had slipped from his eyes and he screwed them up, mortified to the point of not daring to breathe. Breaking down alone in his bed with the muffling charm in place was one thing. Breaking down in the arms of the one person he had always - no, this was not a good thing at all. Still, it was better than being alone because those strong arms were finally around him and oh God, how he had _longed_ for those arms all these years.

"You don't know," Harry was whispering hoarsely in his ear. "You _can't_ know how many times I've wanted to - shit..."

Harry stumbled to a stop, horrified that he had blurted that out. Had he said too much? But there were trembling arms closing around his back and squeezing tightly and pulling him closer still so perhaps Draco hadn't heard or he had but didn't really mind or perhaps he just hadn't realised what Harry actually meant by that.

"Yeah," Draco choked out softly.

_Or maybe he did._

Harry nodded and held him tightly and they rocked slightly as the very last rays of the sun bathed them in a soft golden light, highlighting the straight blond strands nestling close to the messy dark locks.

"We're friends now," Harry whispered and Draco nodded. They finally had all the time in the world. Time to study and time to fly, to get to know one another and to put the past behind them, time at last to be friends and perhaps one day...

... to end up as more than friends.

- Chapter End -


	2. Chapter 2: Sharing Without Words

**Author Notes:** Oops. Did I say this was to be a one shot? Looks like I can be bullied quite easily after all. *sheepish smile* I have a real soft spot for vulnerable!Draco now. Damn. But I will still continue HMN and complete it. Promise! In the meantime, thank you all for your lovely reviews, alerts and favs. Enjoy this chapter.

**Appreciation:** Thank you to **Sara Holmes** once again for her very kind encouragement and generous review. I think I'm still in love with her **Dormiscere** fic because I've taken a couple more details from it. If you've read that fic, you'll know which ones they are. And er, borrowed a detail from her **Mental** fic as well. Loving that too. You write Drarry like no other, girl :D

- Chapter Start -

Draco Malfoy stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He ran a comb through his freshly washed hair with deft, practiced strokes and then sighed at his reflection.

_Oh sure, behave perfectly _now_ but the moment my back is turned, you're going to go flat before I even reach the Great Hall. _

The mirror chuckled as if it had heard his thoughts. Draco resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at it. He sighed and tossed the comb into his toiletry basket, eyeing his reflection critically. He had worn his white blond hair slicked back for the first two years of school, the way his father did. After that, he thought it more trouble than it was worth what with muddy Quidditch practices, incessant rain and howling winds, not to mention the never ending showers and endless Scourgify charms courtesy of potions classes in which no one smelled the same coming out as they did going in.

Draco stuck out his lower lip and blew out, watching his breath stir the fine strands already stating to tumble over his grey eyes. He gave up and reached instead for the small glass bottle in a corner of the basket. This one had arrived exactly two weeks ago. Narcissa Malfoy had ordered it via owl order since she was under house arrest and had it sent on to Hogwarts after it met with her approval. Draco pulled the stopper out and held the bottle up to his nose, eyes drifting shut as he took a reverent sniff.

_Aahh... Mother's taste is as usual, impeccable._

Draco had fallen in love with the cologne at first sniff. It was different from the one he had used before. It was citrusy rather than woody, blended with a nice hint of green tea. It was a refreshing scent, far lighter than his previous choice. To Draco, it signified a new and fresh beginning - a chance to start afresh. It was something he wanted more than anyone else in the eighth year.

_Except for one other. _

Draco wanted to turn his back on everything that had happened to him and everything that he had _been_ for the past seven years. No, longer than that – perhaps all his life. No one had ever asked him what he wanted and if they had, he probably wouldn't have been able to answer. All he had to go on with were the beliefs and the prejudices he had grown up with, things he had thought to be the absolute truth. Things that had started to crack under the surface but he still refused to see, truly see, until that horrifying incident at the end of his sixth year. That was the moment when those invisible blinkers had finally come loose and then during the tense and frightening summer holiday that followed, fallen from his eyes forever.

_Who I am compared to that one other person._

Draco hadn't had a chance to do anything about it then – he was literally terrified out of his wits, for himself and for his parents. But he had that chance now and he didn't want to waste it. Wasn't going to in fact. He wanted to break, to crush the beliefs he had been brought up with. He wanted to be different, to show that he was different. He knew he was one lucky bloke considering the past couple of years, the things he had been involved in however reluctantly, the things he had done and the single most dreadful thing he had _almost_ done. Yes, he was damned lucky. He and his mother had been spared Azkaban. He had been allowed to return to Hogwarts to complete his final year at school and to sit for his NEWTs. He had been allowed to walk around the school freely and to join the others during Hogsmeade weekends provided he didn't break the vows he had made to Shacklebolt.

_All because of that one same person._

Draco owed his life and everything good that had happened since to _him_, even the small bottle in his hand. Shacklebolt was all for throwing him on board the Hogwarts Express with nothing but the shirt on his back, not even his wand. All it took was one disapproving lift of Harry's eyebrow and those strong arms crossing over his chest and the stubborn glint in those eyes. Draco was allowed to return to Malfoy Manor to pack his trunk properly, give his tearful mother a goodbye hug and get on board the train with his hawthorn wand safely up his sleeve. He had forgotten to pack his Nimbus but when he realised it later, he hadn't cared. The memory of that devastating FiendFyre was still fresh in his mind, along with other equally painful memories.

A good part of that fear was gone now but he still didn't care that he hadn't brought his broom with him. He had another one to ride even if wasn't his. Even better, he had promised to join the other eighth years on the next flying session... and to remain behind for an hour or so after the others went back.

_All because of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. His... friend._

A small, secretive smile tilted the corners of those pale lips, the sharp cheekbones gaining a faint flush of pink. He was finally, _finally_ friends with Harry Potter. Heck, the Boy Who Lived had put his arms around him just over two weeks ago. Three times in fact. The smile widened, the pink flush deepened. The first hug was completely unintentional of course. Harry had pushed him onto the Firebolt and they started tussling wildly high in the air, Draco desperately trying to get his feet to touch the ground, Harry trying just as hard to stop him. A small shiver rippled through Draco, his eyes closing briefly. That stunt could have ended badly for both of them but once again, Harry had saved the day.

_Typical Gryffindor. Typical of the Saviour of the Wizarding World._

Ugh. That didn't sound remotely sarcastic, not even in his head. But Harry had done more than just that. He had helped him face his fears without making a big deal out of it – he had trusted him enough to give him control of the Firebolt. It had resulted in the second hug that was probably still unintentional since they were flying and all. It had also resulted in the best half hour Draco had had in months, perhaps even years. With those sure strong arms around him, he felt as if he could have flown forever.

_How does he make it seem so easy?_

But the third and best hug of all had come right at the end and this time, it was completely intentional. Draco didn't know if Harry knew just _how much_ that handshake meant to him. The memory of Harry's first outright rejection of his hand during their first night in Hogwarts had haunted him for so long, fueling the insults he regularly hurled at his rival but finally, he could put it to rest. The sheer knee weakening relief he felt when Harry grasped his hand had caused those blasted tears to reappear. He hadn't been able to hold them back then, not when they had fallen so often in the past year or two but it was all right. Harry hadn't laughed at him or turned away from him. He had just pulled him in and embraced him hard and long as if Draco was someone who mattered, as if that hug was something he himself wanted and not to just... give away. Draco had never wanted that moment to end. And as for those startling words Harry had blurted out - Draco took a deep breath and shook his head, refusing to wish for the impossible, refusing to let his heart hope for too much.

_He's a bloody Gryffindor. He's like that with everyone._

But it didn't stop him from tipping a little of the contents of the bottle onto his finger and dabbing the cool liquid behind each earlobe and on his inner wrists. It didn't stop the stupid hope from welling up inside him anyway.

"And... we're still primping," came a deadpan voice by the bathroom door. Draco's eyes flicked to the reflection of Theo Nott's head in the mirror. In the old days, he would have said something snarky and probably even pointed his wand for emphasis but he didn't feel like it now.

"I'm ready," he muttered, looking down at the bottle in his hand. How fitting that it had arrived two weeks ago on the very morning of that flying outing. Draco had ducked into the nearest washroom right after breakfast and tried it on immediately. He was glad he did. Very glad. He added just a dab more over his heart, stoppered the bottle and placed it back in the basket. Unlike Finnigan who apparently thought it necessary to render all noses within a ten mile radius of him numb with shock, Draco knew the proper way to use cologne. The less the better. A hint was so much more enticing than a splash. Not that he was trying to entice anyone, of course, least of all...

No, the point of the matter was that he was a Malfoy and as such, he knew when less meant more. Not that a Malfoy was ever short on the 'more' part either. The Malfoy manor was second to none and the Malfoy vault literally overflowing with gold. The Malfoy name opened doors and carried weight, pulled strings and secured favours. But that was all in the past. Draco's grey eyes unfocused, his thoughts pulling his lips down at the corners. Now, the pile of galleons had shrunk significantly and the name Malfoy only got sneers and a rush to distance oneself. It was synonymous with the infamy of having played host to the vanquished Dark Lord and having your father call Azkaban his new home. It reeked of dishonour, an irredeemable darkness in one's soul and a mark on one's left forearm that would forever be nothing more than a mark of shame.

Something familiar and hot threatened to fill Draco's eyes. He sucked in a deep breath, almost choking on it when a quiet cough sounded behind him. Theo was adept at fading into the background despite not being a ghost.

"Hey, you all right?"

Draco blinked twice and Theo's worried reflection came back into focus. He pushed all his troubled thoughts to the back of his mind and took a deep breath.

"Yeah. Let's go," he said quietly. Theo swallowed the words that wanted to come out. He simply nodded, allowing the other boy to exit the bathroom before following. Draco had been much too quiet ever since he came back to Hogwarts. Of course everyone knew why but they were all polite - most of the time - and no one mentioned it if they could help it. That hadn't stopped Theo from worrying over the fact that Draco was absent for breakfast half the time and as a result, had grown even thinner and far too pale.

Theo was honestly glad when an improvement came about two weeks ago. It had started with the unexpected sight of a windblown Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy walking into the Great Hall together, late for dinner and with slightly sheepish smiles on their faces. It had continued with Draco's regular appearance at the breakfast table with the result that those hollows under those too sharp cheekbones were finally starting to fill out. Theo was a smart boy. He knew who was responsible for it. He didn't have to say a word, none of them did. Everyone was still... polite.

- o -

As always, Harry's green eyes were the first thing Draco looked for when he and Theo approached the eighth years' table. The Great Hall was emptying fast as classes would start soon. At their table, only Harry, Ron and Hermione remained. Draco's eyes passed assessingly over their plates. Weasley had a four inch tall stack of heavily buttered toast on his while Granger was doing her usual thing - reading and sipping juice instead of eating - as if mere words would fill her up. They probably did. Harry's plate was empty but the crumbs showed he had already eaten. Draco sat down before he even realised he had taken the seat opposite Harry. Funny how fast some habits changed - he used to take the seat furthest away. Almost immediately, Harry pinned him with a disapproving frown.

"Class starts in ten minutes," he said pointedly. Draco would have preferred a smile but was still ridiculously pleased by the frown. He only wished Harry's two shadows would leave him alone.

"Good morning, Harry," he said with a bright smile, voice deliberately cheerful. Perfect timing - Weasley choked on a mouthful of buttery toast, causing Granger's eyes to appear briefly above her book, her eyebrows drawn together. Draco had no doubt the Weasel still found it hard to believe they were no longer 'Potter' and 'Malfoy'.

"One bite at a time, Weasley," Draco advised airily. "I'm sure even you can manage that."

He reached for a piece of toast and froze, eyes narrowing at the hand absently patting Ron's back. That was it - no more making the Weasel choke if Harry was going to touch him like that.

"You should wake up ten minutes earlier so that you can eat a proper breakfast," Harry said suddenly, his eyes disparaging the thin layer of butter Draco was carefully spreading on his slice. Draco lifted an eyebrow, the movement so practiced now it no longer required thought. It didn't come with an insult though. Funny how little he missed the sneers and jeers he used to throw at Harry. They only reminded him of bloody petty he had been.

"Yes, Mother," he replied instead with another blinding smile, just before biting into his toast and leaning back slightly. Perfect timing again - Weasley was taking a gulp of pumpkin juice to clear his throat but he choked on it instead, spewing juice soaked crumbs everywhere. Granger sighed and snapped her book closed. Draco watched as he chewed, both eyebrows up in genuine surprise this time as she gathered up her things and pulled a red faced and hiccoughing Weasley from the table, hustling him away. Draco watched Harry looking after them with a frown and smiled craftily to himself. He was going to think of other outrageous things to say that would lead to Harry being left alone with him.

"Pass the jam, Draco?"

Draco sighed and obliged. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those times. Theo was seated beside him and so quiet one tended to forget he was there. When Draco looked up, Harry's gaze was on him. There was a hint of something in those eyes. With a small jolt, Draco realised it was the same frustration he felt inside. Everyone in their class now knew they were finally friends but since they shared the same classes and common room, they hadn't had much chance to talk in private.

And Merlin knew if any two people needed to talk, it was Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

- o -

"All right, pair up and get started on the potion. All the ingredients are in the store cupboard. You have exactly one hour."

Slughorn's amiable tone caused the usual scramble to find partners. Draco's shoulders tensed, his eyes already boring steadily into the dark head in front of him, willing Harry to turn around, willing him to not partner Ron or Hermione as he usually did.

"Draco, shall we?" Theo asked quietly by his side. Draco sighed and dropped his gaze. Apparently, his stare wasn't strong enough to penetrate messy dark locks. Or the bloke who owned that head of hair was just too damned thick to notice.

"Yeah, all right. You go get the stuff, I'll set up my cauldron," Draco muttered and bent down to retrieve his bag from the floor.

"Draco, you taken?"

The blond Slytherin sat up straight so fast his spine almost cracked in protest. Harry had finally twisted around and those green eyes were filled with more hope than they should have. Draco opened his mouth, half glanced at Theo and shut it again. He was suddenly and acutely miserable.

_Damnit._

"Nope. He's free and unattached. I think I might partner Longbottom, actually."

Draco swung around to Theo whose smile was as innocent as his words. He fully deserved to wear the Slytherin badge. Draco stared at his retreating back and then swung back to Harry.

"Are you?" Harry asked, his hopeful eyes demanding an answer.

"I am now," Draco replied with a smile. He was glad he had showered. He was glad he was wearing his make-a-fresh-beginning cologne. He was going to thank Theo right after this.

- o -

Half an hour later, Draco had almost changed his mind about that last bit. Harry really _was_ rather dismal at potions. Draco could almost understand why Snape used to deduct so many points from him even if vindictiveness had been a good part of it. Draco desperately wanted good marks, if only to justify Harry's help in getting him back to Hogwarts but he didn't want to jeopardise his new friendship either. He sighed and employed tact when Harry chopped a little too carelessly or when he wanted to add in something a little too early. Draco told himself learning was a good thing. Tact and politeness weren't things he had had to worry about for the past seven years but it wasn't all that difficult once you set your mind to it. It also helped that Harry didn't seem to mind, content enough to follow his lead, content to move closer and peer into the cauldron every five minutes, wondering aloud if the potion had changed colour or not. It made Draco smile. He made up his mind to send his mother another thank you letter. A long and newsy one, the kind she liked to read.

They were finally at the last step of the potion, just waiting for it to boil before adding in shredded mandrake leaf. Apparently, it wasn't just the screaming roots that were useful. Draco glanced around and realised they were the fastest. Even Granger had had to start afresh. Draco smirked at the sight of her pressed lips and the Weasel's downcast face that suggested he had botched their first attempt. Or first _and_ second attempt.

"Draco..."

He looked up, a small fluttering in his chest as he encountered those green eyes again. Harry was once again bending close to him under the pretext of peering at the simmering yellow liquid. At this point, it didn't smell so good. Draco cursed himself for using only a dab of cologne. He probably smelled of bat wings by now. Perhaps Finnigan's overenthusiastic use of perfume had its merits. On Potions days at least.

"Do you want to go grab some food from the hall? I'll dish this up for Slughorn and clear up. We could uhm, have lunch down by the uh, lake."

Harry's muttered words sounded like a statement but his expressive eyes added in the question mark and the uncertainty. Draco nodded without hesitation, his eyes lighting up. It didn't even occur to him that Harry might be pulling his leg.

"By the large tree, the one with the bent branches?" he murmured back. Harry nodded and gave a small smile, mostly with his eyes. It was enough to make Draco let go of whatever was in his fist into the cauldron. Good thing it was the shredded leaf. Even better, it was the right time to add them in.

"Let it boil for one minute exactly and it's done," he whispered, starting to shove his things surreptitiously into his bag. Harry nodded, his eyes now on Slughorn. Draco glanced the same way. The portly Potions Master was sitting behind his desk, staring off into space as his fat fingers drummed lightly on the desk. Probably thinking of how to get his next supply of crystallised pineapple without having to pay for it.

Without a word, Draco turned around and walked out quietly, getting a few curious gazes but no comments. He hoped Harry wouldn't bungle up that simple last step and frowned. Which was more important - a good mark in Potions or lunch with Harry Potter? Draco's forehead wrinkled. But Harry Potter alone without his two shadows? Draco smiled to himself. No contest, really.

Harry stared at the cauldron, willing its contents to boil faster. He knew he was grinning and kept having to force the corners of his lips back down. Finally, the minute passed. Carefully, he took the cauldron off the fire. He ladled the liquid into a vial and strode up to the desk in front, holding the too hot glass by his fingertips. Slughorn's approving look at the vial eased his heart - it appeared that Draco did indeed know his potions.

"Harry m'boy, the fastest as usual! Lucky thing for your partner Malfoy, eh?"

Harry managed a weak grin. He returned to his desk, cleaning up and packing his things at top speed and escaping before Ron or Hermione could question him. Taking advantage of the mostly deserted corridors, he swiftly made his way out of the dungeons, slinging his bag onto one shoulder. He hoped Draco had brought enough food for their lunch but even if he hadn't, Harry didn't really care. It wouldn't be the first time he had gone hungry. By the time he reached the main entrance, there were more students coming out of the classrooms, on their way to the Great Hall for lunch or to the washrooms. Harry popped by a washroom himself to wash his hands and run them through his wild hair. He grimaced when he caught himself thinking about silky straight blond strands.

_It's just lunch. Get a grip._

Harry left the washroom and skirted around a couple of chattering first years. They needed to talk, he told himself, unconsciously trying to justify his spontaneous suggestion. It had been impossible trying to find some time alone with Draco. Well, that wasn't strictly true of course - there was that free period last week when he had followed Ron and Hermione back to the common room only to have the two of them disappear for a whole hour. Then there was the morning three days ago when Harry had woken up early and found Draco coming down to the common room a few minutes after he did. But in the end, those periods were spent mostly in an awkward silence where they had just exchanged nervous smiles and stilted comments about the weather and assignments. Perhaps they had so much to say that they just didn't know how or where to start. Or perhaps the spontaneous hug Harry had given Draco two weeks ago was uppermost in their minds and both were quite unable to think of anything else. In the end, nothing much was said but their eyes spoke a lot and left both of them feeling rather warm in the face by the time the others trooped downstairs.

Today was different, though. Harry's steps quickened. He felt a lifting in his heart that surely had nothing to do with his long time rival who - just by the way - was smelling all sorts of wonderful. Harry had first noticed that utterly distracting scent two weeks ago. It was light but he was sitting so close to Draco on the broom and of course, they had hugged by the lake. Harry really liked that scent. It was light and... well, it was sweet. No, not sweet exactly but... innocent. Innocent in a way that Harry never thought someone like Draco Malfoy to be, what with that annoying swagger and boasting. Funny thing was, it suited Draco and damnit, that fact distracted Harry no end.

He had caught himself leaning close to Draco a few times in class just now and was absurdly pleased when the blond didn't back away. He had to fight back another silly grin as he ran down the entrance steps. He wasn't the only one outside. A few small groups of students were sitting in the courtyard on the stone benches around the tinkling fountain, taking advantage of the weak sunlight that shone through the clouds. No one seemed to be heading out to the grounds however and Harry took heart in that. He walked on further, hoping Ron and Hermione hadn't finished with their potion yet. Not that he wanted them to do badly, just that he hoped they wouldn't come looking for him. He made his way to the largest tree overlooking the lake. There - he had caught a glimpse of a head of white blond hair.

- o -

Draco spread his cloak on the grass and lined the inner green silk with a handful of paper napkins taken from the Great Hall. Next, he carefully extracted the napkin wrapped bundles from his bag, hoping he hadn't squashed anything. He had nicked the food from the nearest table, ignoring the disapproving mutterings and pointed looks from the two Hufflepuff second years already sitting there. He heaved a frustrated sigh - his hands were shaking. He was just having lunch with Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake! There was no need to be nervous. It was just a simple lunch. Just a means of snatching a few minutes together away from prying eyes, that was all. After all, he had a million things to apologise for and it would be difficult enough apologising without having an audience of bloody curious people gawking at him. The eighth years seemed to do everything together. Harry never seemed to have a moment alone that didn't include Weasley or Granger. Or the female Weasley. Draco frowned for a moment before deciding she wasn't worth a single wrinkle and smoothed out his forehead.

He carefully took out a bottle of pumpkin juice along with two plastic cups, still unconsciously justifying his current actions to himself. After all, he and Harry had missed out on seven years of friendship - that alone would mean hours of catching up on. But having been school rivals, having stood on opposite sides of the war, having exchanged nothing but angry, insulting words and hexes, some more painful than others... well, it would mean a _lifetime_ of catching up, really. Draco pointedly ignored the way his heart stuttered and then raced at the word 'lifetime'.

_Yeah. Sure. And Harry wishes for that too._

Draco sat back on his heels and stared moodily out at the lake. The brisk wind teased his hair into his eyes and he swept it back absently, squinting at the cloudy sky, his mind sliding effortlessly to that incident two weeks ago. Flying in the air with those arms around him and a chin resting companionably on his shoulder... Draco's dreamy look turned into a wary one only when he heard swiftly approaching footsteps. Leaning on one arm, he carefully peeped around the tree trunk. There was no mistaking the all too familiar head of messy hair. Draco smiled in relief but instead of calming down, his heart only beat faster.

"Hey," Harry greeted with a quick grin. Draco nodded, his gaze shifting automatically behind Harry.

"No one followed you? Potion OK?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No and yes." Harry sat cross legged on the ground opposite him and ran his hand through his hair, his eyes looking at Draco and then darting away.

"So - what'd you get?" he asked, gesturing to the napkin wrapped bundles in front of him. Without waiting for an answer, he started unwrapping the nearest one. Draco also sat down cross legged and reached for the other bundle. In less than five seconds, Harry was staring at the food with his eyebrows well raised.

"Is this lunch," he quirked a rather mischievous smile at Draco who was suddenly glad he wasn't holding anything or he might have dropped it, "or did you just bring dessert?"

Harry was obviously teasing but Draco found himself prickling up anyway.

"It is lunch!" he insisted, pointing a long finger at the small pile of sandwiches. "Look, ham and egg and cucumber on rye - covers all your basic food groups."

"Uh huh," Harry didn't look convinced. "That's only enough for one person."

Draco scowled indignantly.

"It's a wonder your Firebolt can take off with you on it. Fine, eat the lot. I'm not hungry."

"Hey, I was only joking!" Harry protested at once. He had gone without food more times than he cared to remember. He wouldn't take anyone's lunch away from them, especially one who looked as if a good breeze would blow him away. Draco only shrugged, those pale lips pursing in what looked suspiciously like a pout. Harry sighed and dropped his gaze.

"And _that_ on the other hand is..." He looked askance at the much larger pile that seemed to consist of nothing but cake, pudding and fruit tarts.

"Dessert. Also a valid food group." Draco's voice was a little clipped. Harry raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Right. Did you know you've inverted the food pyramid?" he asked dryly.

"I have a sweet tooth!" Draco sounded defensive, even to his ears.

"I know."

They shared a startled glance that turned into nervous grins.

"You used to receive sweets from home - I remember," Harry said softly, staring at those devastating eyes as they widened.

_They're the soft grey luster of the pearls Aunt Petunia used to wear when she had a fancy dinner to go to. _

_No, they're the shade of the clouds that gently envelope the mountaintops, just before it rains. _

_No, they're the early morning mist that brings the fragrance of flowers wet with dew before the sun rises._

Harry blinked, mortified at the utter nonsense going on inside his head. It was bad enough when he was trying to pin down the colour of Draco's eyes with a single word but he had apparently progressed onto flowery phrases instead.

_Shit._

Draco didn't notice, preoccupied with how much he had anticipated receiving his weekly supply of sweets way back in first year. How childish he had behaved then, crowing over his gifts loudly and distributing them to his fellow Slytherins, relishing the grovelling thanks he got and the envious looks – probably imagined – from the other tables. Seriously, what a pompous peacock he had been then.

"You remember," he said softly. Harry shrugged, his gaze dropping uncertainly. He picked up a sandwich, tossing it up and down in his hand. Then he looked up.

"Yeah, I do." The bright green looked directly at him and Draco met them head on.

"What else do you remember?" he asked, curious more than anything else. Harry shrugged.

"Other things... but -" he shook his head, his lips thinning and his eyes clouding with memories. Draco wasn't stupid. He remembered the shouted words, they petty revenges, the glares and the snarls just as well as Harry did.

"I was a stupid git then," he said, surprising himself as much as Harry. The green eyes widened and Draco had to force himself to hold that gaze.

"I was too," Harry returned quietly after a moment. Draco rolled his eyes.

_Typical Harry Potter._

But the thing was, he believed what Harry said. It was there in his eyes. Over the years, he had seen them angry and determined and frightened and brave and defiant... but they were always honest. Whatever Harry Potter thought or said, it was mirrored in those green eyes of his. Perhaps if he had responded with an insult, Draco would have snarled back and left in a huff but they were talking. Finally talking. And the words were suddenly there, just waiting to be said.

"I... was angry when you refused to shake my hand," Draco started. He couldn't seem to speak above that soft murmur which was actually fine with Harry because then it whispered over his senses like… pure silk over bare skin. Harry gritted his teeth, wondering if he had accidentally taken a Poetry Enhancing charm without realising it. He forgot when Draco glanced up, all pale face and pointed chin and huge grey eyes before looking down again. Harry followed his gaze, staring at long thin fingers nervously twisting the corner of one napkin.

"I thought it was my chance to be friends with the famous Harry Potter."

Draco wondered if an empty stomach made for a loose mouth. He winced but when he chanced a look up, Harry was smiling, his eyes glowing with warmth.

"Well, if you'd known that I was lousy at Potions you'd never have-"

"I wouldn't have cared!" Draco blurted out, cheeks flushing a sudden, attractive pink. It was proof enough that one should never speak when hungry. He clenched his jaw but forced himself not to look down. Surprisingly, Harry's smile turned wistful.

"Thanks... but circumstances being what they were, you would have," he said gently. It wasn't a reprimand. He didn't mean for it to sound like one but Draco ducked his head anyway, all the long years of hating and anger and fear and bitter, tearful regret swelling up inside him. He had no idea where to begin to let it all out. But he had to try.

"The things," Draco began and stopped. His voice was shaking again. He gave a hurried glance to Harry before looking away. He swallowed, took a deep breath and tried again.

"The things that I thought mattered for so many years... " Damn, what was wrong with his voice! He broke off and shook his head agitatedly, staring at the lake, at anywhere except at those eyes that he swore could break right into his soul and see him for the terrified and insecure boy he was. He took another deep breath and tried again.

"None of that mattered in the end. I - my family - we were all so caught up in what we thought was important - due to fear - or loyalty - when-"

Draco broke off. He swallowed and gulped another deep breath. This time, he looked straight at Harry and the sight of those grey eyes gleaming brightly twisted something hard inside Harry.

"... when what you had - have - was the most important thing of all," Draco completed in a shaky whisper. Harry blinked, his right hand itching to reach out and rest his palm against one of those flushed cheeks, his thumb ready to whisk away the moisture that was just a breath away from falling.

"And what's that?" he whispered gently. Draco glanced away briefly, blinking hard. When he looked back, his eyes were brighter than before.

"Friends," he said simply. Harry stared at him and slowly nodded. Ron and Hermione – he would have died if it weren't for them.

"They not only kept me sane, they saved my life," he said quietly, knowing Draco would know whom he meant. The latter nodded, willing his tears away. It was so bloody silly to want to cry when they were just saying things that should have already been said but it hurt to think they had come so close to not knowing each other, to not reaching this moment. A warm hand squeezed his shoulder and Draco looked up immediately.

"One can never have too many friends, you know," Harry said quietly. Draco nodded. He was trembling so hard inside he couldn't possibly say anymore. He grabbed a tart from the pile in front of him, holding it out in a hand that shook.

"There's uhm, treacle tart too," he mumbled. Harry sighed and gave a reluctant smile. He sensed this wasn't the time to start getting everything off their chests. They would just have lunch and go back inside but still, it was enough to see the hint of colour in those pale cheeks and to be able to look at him without wondering about what others would say.

"So I wasn't the only one staring?" he teased. Draco could feel warmth in his face again. He looked down, wondering why on earth he had changed the subject. They were just about to finally get started on their past history and he had chickened out. Again.

"Well, let's eat," he said in a brisker tone. Harry just nodded. They had all the time in the world now and besides, it was kind of nice to have an excuse to have lunch with Draco again. They had a lifetime to catch up on after all. Not that Draco would want a lifetime with him, of course. It was just a thought.

- o -

_Twenty minutes later…_

"So, that's all you brought?" Harry gestured at the empty wrappings in front of them. Draco blinked at him.

"It's not enough?" he asked incredulously. Harry gave him a tentative smile.

"It's OK but dinner's a long way off."

Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"You took most of the sandwiches!"

Harry tilted his chin at him.

"You ate most of the cake. I'd watch my weight if I were you."

Appraising green eyes flicked over Draco's body, still far too skinny in his opinion. Draco rolled his eyes, pretending he hadn't noticed the scrutiny and ignoring the goose bumps that rippled into being. Then he remembered something and grabbed his bag.

"Wait. I have apples."

Harry sat up straighter, his eyes caught by that perfect profile with those fine silvery strands half hiding those intriguing grey eyes.

"Here."

Draco reached into a corner and pulled out something white. He laid it on his cloak and pulled off the linen handkerchief with a flourish. They both stared at the solitary Washington Red sitting there. Draco sighed and his shoulders slumped under the white school shirt. Harry's eyes were caught by the movement and he remembered the bony feel to those shoulders and that body when they had hugged two weeks ago, the feel of it so different from Ron's well fed muscular built and Hermione's and Ginny's softer cushiony feel.

"Here, take it." Draco sounded resigned. Harry's gaze snapped up to see the red apple held out to him. He frowned, making no move to touch it.

"What about you?"

Draco looked away, shrugging.

"Not your fault I brought only one," he muttered. Harry blinked, still not quite used to this strangely selfless side of Draco. He moved his gaze to the apple, seeing how well the pale thin fingers and clean short nails contrasted with the rosy red skin.

_How many meals had Draco taken by himself until he had gotten so used to taking only one portion?_

"It is a pretty large apple," he said quietly. Draco's eyebrows shot up and then wrinkled together. For a moment, he wondered if Harry was possibly making some sort of double entendre but he had never heard of one involving an apple before. Unless you were talking about girls. Harry returned his stare calmly. Draco's mouth opened in a small 'o' or realisation as he finally deciphered the silent 'We could share' offer in those bright green eyes. They were kind of distracting.

_Typical Gryffindor._

Still, it started a tiny tingle of warmth in Draco's chest. He didn't think he had ever shared food before. Not like this anyway. He smiled, the sheer brightness making Harry blink.

"Wait - we'll need..." Draco fished his wand from his sleeve, his free hand reaching for the empty juice bottle.

"Right. Let's see if I still remember this."

He placed the tip of his hawthorn wand on the mouth of the bottle and frowned in concentration. Harry watched him, the blond bangs still half covering those eyes, the pale eyebrows drawing together. He forced down a sudden... want... a longing to... hell, he didn't know what. But it shook him. He sharpened his stare when the pale lips curved in a pleased smile and something shimmered just out of reach of his vision.

Harry looked down, a little surprised to see a short silver knife lying where the bottle had been. He was impressed but something about that knife made him uneasy. He looked up to see Draco sliding his wand back in his sleeve with a somewhat arrogant flourish that he hadn't seen in a long while, the pleased smile lingering on that pale face.

"I'll do the honours, shall I?" Draco picked up the apple and tossed it in the air a couple of times, his other hand reaching for the handle of the knife. The handle was black, the end of the hilt fanning out and then curving inwards... a little like a curled black moustache. Harry's stomach clenched hard, feeling cold and uneasy. He closed his eyes but that was a mistake. Flashes of images burst immediately in his mind, swift and unstoppable.

A silver knife flying across the room... a surprised look on an ugly face with round eyes and large bat like ears... the dark stain that grew and grew... the cold feel of silver on his fingers, denial swelling up like a screaming rush inside of him, clawing to get out...

"Don't touch it!" Harry burst out. He was finding it hard to breathe. Draco froze with his fingertips just barely grazing the handle, head jerking up.

Harry was shaking. He knew he was being ridiculous. He had handled knives after that, they were needed in Potions after all. Besides, he and Ron must have chopped up about a hundred heads of cabbages for coleslaw one hot summer's evening at the Burrow after George accidentally 'lost' their wands for an entire afternoon. But none of the knives in the Weasley kitchen had looked remotely like this. Harry knew he was behaving oddly. He was staring at the knife as if just discovering it was a Horcrux. It was perfectly harmless but his breathing still sounded too loud in his ears. He didn't want to see it held in those pale fingers.

"Don't touch it," he whispered. Draco must think him mental.

_It's just a knife! Pull yourself together!_

But he couldn't. It reminded him too much of...

"I won't. It's OK."

A pale hand touched his shoulder tentatively, thin fingers giving a hard squeeze. Harry opened his eyes. Draco was kneeling, half leaning towards him, his other hand flat on his thigh, his face concerned. Harry could feel perspiration beading on his forehead. He took in a deep breath, pulling that elusive hint of citrus into his lungs. It tempted him and calmed him. At that very moment, that scent was forever locked away in his mind as something that belonged exclusively to a pair of grey eyes you could drown in. This time, Harry had no idea how long he stared only by the time he blinked, those sharp cheekbones were pink again.

"Sorry," Harry apologised hastily, wincing as his voice cracked. He reached up automatically, his hand closing over the cool thin fingers on his shoulder. It wasn't Draco's fault that the knife looked so alike. He was a Slytherin after all. Ex-Slytherin. Who was looking sharply at him as if he might go mental at any moment. Then realisation softened that gaze and Harry trembled anew.

"Aunt Bellatrix," Draco whispered at last. "She threw -"

"Don't!" Harry shook his head, violently this time. "Don't, Draco. Not now..."

"All right," Draco whispered. He had never seen this side of Harry, he hadn't ever seen him this close to cracking. Harry obviously couldn't talk about it now but at the same time, it lit a small flame of hope inside Draco. They both had their share of nightmares. Perhaps one day, they could... share them.

"I'm fine," Harry finally said, relieved to find his voice steadier now. "Just - just don't use that knife. All right?"

Draco nodded slowly. He tugged his hand back and Harry released it with a self deprecating smile, watching quietly as the blond drew his wand again and transfigured the knife back into the bottle. The silence lasted for a whole minute. Draco had kept back his wand and didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. Finally, he grabbed the apple and shoved it at Harry.

"Here, you take this. I don't want it," he said shortly. Harry frowned.

"You eat it. You brought it here," he countered. Draco's eyes narrowed. He knew it - Harry was being noble again. Stubborn Gryffindor.

"I don't want it," he repeated, pushing the apple closer to Harry's face, almost bumping it against his nose. Harry leaned back and swatted his hand away irritably. Stubborn Slytherin!

"Just take the damned apple, Potter!"

Harry's eyes narrowed at the angry tone. Back to being 'Potter', was he?

"Why, did you poison it or something, Malfoy?" he drawled.

Draco scowled, not pleased to be called 'Malfoy' again.

"I told you to call me Draco!" he hissed, jaw clenched. Harry pressed his own lips into a thin line.

"And I told you to call me Harry!" he shot back. Draco blinked at him, the movement erasing the frown on his face.

"So you did," he said, sounding a little surprised. For no reason at all, Harry felt his lips twitch. He pressed them together but they curved upwards. Again, he tried to force them into a straight line but they persisted and before he knew it, he was grinning at a surprised looking Draco. The blond stared back at him and then he started smiling and before they knew it, they were chuckling over nothing at all.

"Here - just take it," Draco finally said, holding the apple out at a more reasonable distance from Harry's face. The green eyes dropped to the apple and back up again.

"We could still share it, you know," Harry said quietly. Draco squinted at him suspiciously.

"We haven't got anything to cut it with, remember?" he said crossly, refraining from pointing out that Harry had almost freaked out over that knife earlier. Harry stared at him, obviously waiting for him to mention it. Draco purposely didn't. He just pushed back his hair with his free hand, chin lifted almost defiantly. Harry finally sighed and reached out, fingers closing around the fruit.

"Thanks," he said softly. Draco shrugged again and folded his arms, looking away. The audible crunch of teeth biting into crisp sweet flesh almost made him flinch as did the sweet fruity smell that wafted over to him. Then something red bobbed into his line of vision and he realised that the apple was right under his nose.

"Bite the other side," Harry offered. Draco's startled gaze dropped to the fruit. There was no sign of a bite mark on the shiny red skin and he realised Harry was holding the unbitten side out to him. He rolled his eyes.

"Typical Gryffindor," he tried for a sneer but it morphed almost immediately into a smile. Harry swallowed and then smiled back.

"What would a typical Slytherin do?" he challenged. Draco grinned and rolled his eyes again.

"Go on, I want another bite," Harry said impatiently. Draco's hand came up, one pale thumb and middle finger closing delicately around the top and bottom of the apple, causing Harry's knuckles to brush against his palm. Draco inhaled shakily as Harry carefully slid his hand out. Suddenly, he knew how he wanted to share. Not in the painful things they still couldn't speak of... but in a way that didn't need words.

Harry blinked when the grey eyes grew intense. Then the pale fingers moved and Harry stared as they nimbly rotated the apple around so that the unbitten part was now facing him. He didn't breathe, his eyes going wide with disbelief. Then the mouth was opening, the pale lips were pulling back and the white teeth were closing in on the apple, sinking into the red skin right next to the missing chunk that he had bitten out earlier. The same juicy crunch sounded and Harry blinked. Draco was chewing solemnly, still staring at him.

Harry swallowed. He couldn't think of a single thing to say. Draco held that disbelieving gaze, feeling exactly like he had two weeks ago after sticking out his hand in friendship. He chewed slowly, willing himself not to choke. His face was hot again. Had he made a fool of himself?

"Just to show you it's not poisoned," he mumbled. "Here, your turn," he added, abruptly shoving the fruit at Harry who made no move to take it. Instead, he got up onto his knees and shuffled closer, holding the uncertain gaze. He leaned forward and opened his mouth and saw Draco's jaw drop. The grey eyes blinked twice and flicked from the bitten apple to Harry's mouth. Slowly, he brought it up higher. Harry was pleased to see the bitten side facing him. He took another bite of the apple, the tip of his tongue automatically coming out to lap at the juice running down the skin. Draco swallowed, his eyes now huge. Harry's tongue was licking the _exact same spot_ where his lower lip had rested earlier.

"Your turn," Harry whispered around his mouthful. Draco gave a jerky nod, bringing the apple up to his lips, his hand shaking slightly. Another bite and one third of the apple was gone. It had to be the funniest thing _ever_, bonding with your previous enemy over something as ordinary as an apple but neither of them laughed, They kept their gaze on each other and on the mouths that were chewing and on the lips that were glistening with the sweet, sweet juice. And then Harry's lips twitched. He gave a small roll of his eyes and Draco burst out grinning and then they were laughing and taking turns to demolish the apple. It couldn't have been a particularly large one because far too soon, it was gone and Draco was only holding the core. He put it carefully down on the napkin, absently licking at his sticky fingertips.

"Well, that beats fighting any day," he murmured wryly. He looked up and stopped breathing. Harry was still watching him as if he were hungry and he couldn't be because he had devoured that pile of sandwiches and Draco had only had one.

"So does this," Harry whispered and he leaned in close. Draco gulped as the warm apple scented breath brushed over his cheek but he didn't pull away. All he could think of was that Harry's face was so close and his eyes, even behind those glasses were a brilliant green and God, he was going to die if those parted lips didn't come any closer to his. Then the intense eyes fluttered shut and Harry tilted his head and Draco suddenly knew what to do. He tilted his head the other way and let their lips touch.

But even then, Harry was pulling away, eyes snapping open and looking like he had been stunned.

"Sorry! I - sorry, don't know what uhm, came over me," he apologised with a shaky smile. It looked more like a grimace than anything else. Draco swallowed, his lips tingling from a contact that was so bloody brief, it didn't even qualify as a kiss. So... damned... close... he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the hurt from crushing him.

"Draco?"

Draco shook his head, all the words sticking in his throat. He started gathering the napkins together and froze when they vanished from his hands, leaving only his cloak on the ground. His head jerked up in time to see Harry sliding his wand back into his sleeve, looking utterly torn. Draco started to scramble to his feet but Harry was faster and Draco found his chin captured in one strong hand, those green eyes searching his face, seeing far more than they should.

"Let go," Draco whispered desperately, once again perilously close to tears.

"No."

"_Please_. Let -"

"Did you want... that...?" Harry interrupted him. The sheer uncertainty in those eyes was enough. More than enough. Draco nodded, defeated when his vision started to swim. He blinked and a tear escaped, sliding down his cheek. He saw Harry's gaze track its progress and then look up, frowning.

"But don't you think -"

Draco shook his head.

"Don't think. Just do it," he whispered shakily. Harry's honesty would be his downfall one day because he could never hide what he was thinking and the only thought running through his mind was that he wanted to obey Draco more than anything else this very minute. He nodded and tilted his head and Draco did the same thing, his hands clutching at Harry's shoulders. It was a proper kiss this time. Much too short and rather sticky with apple juice but Draco's hair was soft against Harry's forehead and Harry's shoulders were hard beneath Draco's palms. Harry thought Draco smelled wonderful and Draco thought Harry smelled as good as he always did.

When they drew back, they were smiling. Sheepishly.

"Still friends?" Draco asked tentatively. Harry stared at him. Then he nodded.

"Yes," he said firmly.

"Then kiss me again," Draco whispered.

It wasn't as easy as that, of course but they had the time now. They would find another suitable moment to talk and share. Right now, with the cool breeze lifting their hair and the promise held in that soft apple scented kiss, everything else could simply... wait.

- Chapter End -


End file.
